


Every Inch of You And Then Some

by lowriseflare, threeguesses



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, First Time, Scott Moir soft bro (TM), two weeks ago we had no idea what a twizzle was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 03:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13802187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowriseflare/pseuds/lowriseflare, https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeguesses/pseuds/threeguesses
Summary: By the time the victory ceremony ends, Tessa’s bare back is red with handprints.





	Every Inch of You And Then Some

**Author's Note:**

> Whatever, of course we wrote them. Title is the Arkells, _And Then Some_ , because obviously.

By the time the victory ceremony ends, Tessa’s bare back is red with handprints. Scott can’t stop hugging her, can't stop wrapping her up in the flag or lifting her off the podium, pressing his face against her face. He knows exactly what every news outlet is gonna say about it tomorrow, and he doesn’t care at all.

“I love you,” he says at least six separate times. “Tessa, oh my God, I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” she says, and tears up all over again. Scott has never seen her cry so much in his entire life.

They do interviews. They do what feels like a million interviews, first rinkside and then back at Canada House, telling journalist after journalist how grateful they are and how they did it for Canada and how amazing the crowd was. Then it’s the medal ceremony, where Tessa cries again and Scott thinks his face might actually fall off from smiling so hard. He sings _O Canada_ at the top of his lungs.

Then it’s more interviews, and more photos, and then finally around mid-afternoon everything dies down. Their families head back to the hotel for dinner, and their friends head off to watch the women’s halfpipe, and Tessa and Scott are left at the dorms in Athletes’ Village with strict instructions to shower and put on new clothes for the CBC, just like at the end of any other competition.

Except it’s not like any other competition. It’s not like any other competition at _all_.

He can tell Tessa is thinking the same thing, the way her brow is just slightly furrowed, the two of them standing frozen in the crummy Canadian common room like a couple of badly-conceived ice sculptures. “So,” she says, “I guess we should probably—”

“Yep,” Scott agrees, too quickly. All day, all _week_ , he’s been physically incapable of not touching her—perpetually sliding his palm down her backbone or resting his chin on her shoulder or curling his fingers around the warm, elegant nape of her neck—but suddenly he doesn’t know what to do with his hands at all, jamming them into the pockets of his jacket like something he’s embarrassed to be caught holding. Just for a moment he feels not like a gold medalist or Canada’s favorite son but like a total chump who can’t for the life of him figure out how to—how to— “Definitely.”

That’s when Tessa laughs. “Scott,” she says. Her voice sounds like a bell.

Scott feels a roaring start up in his ears. “Yeah?” he asks stupidly. He will never, ever forgive himself if he reads this wrong.

Tessa just smiles. “Come on,” she says, and takes his hand.

He follows her through the throng of red and white athletes, scattered cheers rising up as people recognize them. The skating block is blessedly empty, everyone out at the practice rink or the gym; Scott and Patrick’s room is the first one off the elevator, both of their names posted on the door in big, unmissable letters. And even though Scott’s expecting it—has _been_ expecting it since he twirled her off the podium—his stomach still drops one thousand feet when Tessa walks past the door without even breaking her stride, her hand still firmly entwined in his.

Then they’re at _her_ door, and Scott’s legs truly might be about to give out. Tessa lets go of him to fish her room key out of her bag, her face still the picture of composure, and something in him just snaps.  

“Tess,” he says. When she looks up, she’s so calm he might as well be calling her name back at the rink at Gadbois, and he cannot take the uncertainty for another single second.

He kisses her.

It’s not graceful. He takes her by surprise and the angle’s off, their teeth clacking together roughly, but he doesn’t even care because it’s Tess, it’s _Tessa_ , warm body and the familiar post-skate smell of her, adrenaline and hairspray and sweat. He gets both hands on her face to correct, tilting her head up and licking his way into her mouth, half-frantic; Tessa kisses him back for a dizzy minute before she grabs his wrists and pulls away. “Scott,” she hisses, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked. “Scott, _Jesus_.”

Scott freezes, a feeling twice as cold as the worst fall he’s ever taken. “I—” he starts, then completely fails to finish the sentence in any meaningful way. It certainly _felt_ like they were building up to something the last few months, all long holds and secret smiles, the energy between them different than it’s ever, ever been. It occurs to him, with no small amount of panic, that maybe she really was just selling a story this entire time.

The horror must be clear on his face, because Tessa laughs again—shriller this time, slightly hysterical. “Just—not in the _hallway_ ,” she explains urgently, then nudges him out of the way and fits her key into the lock.

“Oh thank God,” Scott says, his knees like water. They tumble through the door in a mess of legs and arms and skate gear, Tessa reaching back for his hand and pulling him in behind her with a strong, hard grip.

“What did you think I _meant?_ ” she says, her voice warm and breathless. Scott drops his bag with a thud.

“Dunno,” he says, trying to joke, trying to act normally. Her room looks just like it did when they were in here four days ago going over twizzles, two ugly twin beds and a space-age coffee maker, but it might as well be in a different dimension for the way Scott feels. “Maybe you wanted to nap.”

Tessa laughs, then covers her mouth with both hands. “Oh, I’m so nervous,” she says, almost to herself. Then she steps up into his space and kisses him back.

Scott grins goofily against her mouth. “Don’t be nervous,” he murmurs, in what he hopes is a decent impression of a person whose heart isn’t slamming around in his chest hard enough to crack his ribcage. God, he wasn’t half this rattled before their skate this morning. It’s possible he’s never been this rattled in his life. “S’just me.”

Tessa huffs another laugh. “Oh, right, _it’s just you_ , like you’re just some—” she breaks off, smiling helplessly. Her hair is falling out of its bun. They stare at each other for another moment, something deep and wide and fucking _serious_ passing between them. Finally she clears her throat. “You know, ideally I would have liked to have a shower before we did this,” she says, reaching up and unzipping her jacket.

“You’re perfect,” Scott blurts immediately, his brain shorting out for a second. God, he cannot believe they’re actually about to—he can’t believe she’s _saying_ — “I mean, you don’t need—”

Tessa looks up at him then, raising one immaculate eyebrow. “We’re not supposed to be aiming for perfection, remember?” she teases. “Just excellence.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a fucking dork,” Scott says, but by then he’s kissing her again, walking her backward toward the narrow bed by the window. The winter sun streams in through the blinds.

They haven’t done this before. Scott knows that absolutely no one would believe it but they haven’t, not once, not even a real kiss. It’s a shock to tilt his head and have her mirror him, to learn she somehow kisses like a real grown up woman. Her mouth is as unfamiliar to him as the moon.  When they get to the bed he freezes, suddenly unsure, but Tessa keeps going, sliding her arms out of her jacket and getting to work on his. Scott has never been so grateful for another person in his entire life. He copies her, toeing off his garish red Canada sneakers and reaching for the hem of his hoodie. Everything they’re wearing matches right now, like his and hers Olympic champions or something out of a gender-neutral Roots catalogue. 

“Okay?” he asks, curling his fingers in the cotton of her t-shirt and waiting. Tessa lifts her arms.

Underneath she’s wearing a sports bra that’s blessedly free of maple leaf insignias. Scott yanks his own t-shirt over his head and reaches for his pants while Tessa does the same, and then suddenly they’re both down to their underwear, here in the middle of the afternoon in PyeongChang.

“This is so weird,” Tessa says, smiling. Her thong is plain cotton with tiny stripes.

Scott reaches down and palms her chilly ass like a reflex, squeezing gently. Then, because he thinks he knows what she means but he wants to hear her say it: “Good weird or bad weird?”

Tessa’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, _good_ weird, obviously, I just—” She makes a face. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” he counters like they’re eight and ten all over again, only not like that at all because here’s Tessa reaching up and curling her hands around his shoulders, pushing until he gets the message and sits down hard on the edge of the bed. She climbs into his lap more or less immediately, fisting both hands in his hair and tugging his face up so he’ll keep kissing her. She’s bossier than he necessarily would have guessed.

Scott bites at the edges of her smile, rubbing his palms down the smooth length of her thighs and dragging his knuckles up the muscles of her stomach. “Take this off,” he murmurs, slipping two fingers under the heavy-duty elastic of the sports bra. She’s bleeding heat through the fabric, rocking against him every time she shifts her weight; the thong is so small it’s almost like she’s not wearing anything at all.

“What, this?” Tessa asks innocently, tucking her thumb under the bra’s front band, and holy _shit_ , Scott cannot believe she’s playing with him right now. He always thought she’d be shy.

“You’re not nervous,” he accuses, mildly outraged. Tessa shakes her head.

“I’m terrified,” she says, then sits up in his lap and yanks the bra over her head.

“ _Tess_.” For a whole entire second, Scott truly doesn’t know where to look. She’s like something out of a museum, soft pink nipples and skin so pale he can see her veins. “Tess, _fuck_ ,” he repeats uselessly. He expects her to laugh at him, but when he finally looks up her face is serious. “Okay,” he says, boosting her out of his lap and down onto the thin, narrow mattress. “Okay, let’s—” He lies down next to her as best he can, his body wedged uncomfortably between her and the wall. When she presses her hipbone against him, deliberate, he bites back a truly embarrassing groan.

“Yeah?” Tess raises her eyebrows, looking delighted with herself. Then she does it again.

“Oh my God.” Scott swallows hard. He has no idea what she likes and he feels weirdly shy about asking, so instead he ducks his head and tries a little of everything, licking and sucking, pulling a bit with his teeth. The last makes Tessa squeak quietly, fingers digging into the back of his neck. Scott slides a sweaty palm across the flat expanse of her belly, fingers catching her waistband, but before he can work his hand underneath she’s nudging him off her and bounding upright.

“Hold that thought,” she instructs, the line of her back like a painting as she crosses the room.

Scott frowns. “What are you—?” he asks, his voice cracking like he’s going through puberty all over again. Tessa ignores him, rummaging through her official PyeongChang 2018 welcome basket. Scott blinks stupidly, wondering what she could possibly want—mints, maybe, and Jesus, is his breath that bad?—but then she comes up with something small tucked inside her fist and it hits him like a ton of bricks. Condoms.

“Fuck,” he says softly.

For a split second, Tessa’s face looks exactly like it did when they performed Carmen. Jesus, Scott can’t deal with this. “Do they come with bear mascots?” he jokes weakly. Tessa doesn’t even smile, chucking the foil packet onto his chest and climbing back into bed.

“Come on,” she says, plucking at his waistband. 

“Tess—” He turns the condom over in his palm. “Am I putting this on right now?” He just, he wants to be crystal clear about this.

Tessa’s face is solemn. “Yes,” she says, then hooks both thumbs in her thong and strips it off before drawing her legs to her chest and wrapping an arm around her knees, her body folded neatly as an origami swan. “Okay,” she says, gesturing. “Now you.”

Scott laughs. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he says. He wants to lay her out in the sunlight and inspect every square centimeter of new skin. “You know I think you are like, the most desperately beautiful woman—”

“Oh my _God_.” Tessa thunks her forehead down against her knees like he’s embarrassing her. "Seriously?"

“What?” Scott asks, and it comes out sharper than he means it to. “Do you not want me to say it?”

“No, of course I do, I just—” She lifts her face and takes a deep breath, reaching out and laying her palm against his heart. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he promises, but he feels a little like an idiot now so he cups the hinge of her jaw and kisses her instead of saying anything else, easing her onto her back before reaching down and peeling off his boxers. The condom feels strangely hot in the palm of his hand.

“See? Weird,” Tessa murmurs, but she’s wrapping her arms and legs around him, surrounding him with her familiar Tessa-smell. Scott laughs, fumbling with the wrapper, and then it’s on and suddenly neither of them can look, Tessa pressing her face into the crook of his neck and Scott hiding his in the pillow.

“I feel like I’m sixteen years old,” he confesses.

“It probably would have been less weird if we did it then,” Tessa says. Her hold has gotten a little desperate, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “Oh well.”

”Oh well,” Scott echoes, swallowing. “Okay, I’m gonna—”

Tessa’s skull grinds against his collarbone as she nods, first slowly and then repeatedly. “Yeah. Yes.”

Scott laughs again even though it isn’t funny. “Here we go,” he tells her, cupping the back of her head. He has to look down to actually do it, and _God_ , that’s Tess right there. When he opens her up with his fingers she makes a sound he’s never heard before, whiny and choked, and fuck fuck fuck. He feels like the top of his head is gonna come clean off.

“Scott,” she gasps, arching fretfully.

“I know, I know,” he says, pressing kisses against her temple. “Kiddo, shush, I know.” And then he’s actually doing it, lining himself up and sinking in, and for a second his brain just shuts down because this is  _Tessa_ , and she’s _wet_ , and there’s a confused moment where he honestly feels like he should pull out and run screaming from the room.

He takes a deep breath, trying to concentrate on how tight and warm she is even through the condom, but the second he presses deeper she hisses, and not in a good way. Scott’s head flies up so fast he almost gives himself a cramp. “Are you okay?” he asks. If he hurt her he’ll literally kill himself. “I mean, is that—?”

“Um,” Tessa says, shifting her hips. She opens her eyes, looks profoundly startled by the sight of him, and immediately shuts them again. “Yes.”

Scott frowns. They have an agreement about never lying to each other, but he doesn’t know if that’s out the window at this point, if all the rules are automatically going to be different from now on. “You sure?”

Tess nods into the pillows. “You’re good,” she chirps, patting his shoulders in a way that feels distinctly conciliatory. “Keep going.”

“Tess—”

“ _Scott_ ,” she says. “Seriously.”

Scott hesitates. It’s not how he imagined this going, on the rare occasions he let himself think about it. Her feet are like two ice blocks brushing against his calves. “Okay,” he says uncertainly, pulling out as slowly as possible before pushing back inside her. When he reaches up to nudge her hair out of her face he whacks his elbow loudly on the wall. “Shit.”

Tessa laughs her interview-laugh. “Easy,” she says.

“I’m easy,” Scott promises, although in truth he’s about as tense as he’s ever been in his life. He grits his teeth, his elbow smarting. Tessa isn’t moving so he has to set up the rhythm all by himself, staring down at her closed eyes and feeling weirdly lonely. In the bright sunlight, he can see every single one of her freckles.

Then he shifts slightly, just a minute change of angle, and her eyes fly open again. He expects her to close them but instead they lock onto his and _hold_ , her gaze electric and charged like the middle of a performance, and fuck. _Fuck_. Suddenly Scott is so close to coming he can taste it.

“You okay?” Tessa asks, craning her neck. It’s the first time she’s looked at him below the waist, and even that is almost too much. Scott pulls out and buries his face in the pillow next to her head, groaning. He’s shaking all over like a leaf.

“Sorry,” he pants. “Just—give me a second.”

“Oh,” Tessa breathes, and Scott can tell from her tone she’s realized what’s going on. Her hands come up to thread through his hair, which only makes him feel stupider.  

“Shut up,” he says to the pillow. “I haven’t had sex in two years, okay?”

Tessa’s clever fingertips stop moving against his skull. “Really?” she asks quietly.

Jesus Christ, Scott cannot believe this is happening. It’s a fucking disaster; at this rate he’s going to have to just live in South Korea for the rest of his life. “I mean, _yeah_ , Tess,” he huffs, knowing full well he sounds like a dick. “We said no distractions, right?”

“We did,” she agrees, raking her short nails lightly down the back of his neck; Scott shivers without being able to help it. “I just didn’t think—”

“What, that I cared as much as you?”

“Easy,” Tess says again, her voice perfectly even. “Is that what you heard me say? Because I don’t think that’s what I said.” She wraps her whole hand around the back of his neck then, strong fingers digging into his muscle. “Come up here.”

“Come up where?” Scott mumbles, lifting his head sullenly. He doesn’t feel like he’s about to go off like a gun anymore, which is something, but when he sees she’s holding her arms out he rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to sync our fucking breathing right now, Tessa.”

Tessa shrugs. “Tough,” she says easily, and he realizes with a shock that she’s grinning. “Come up here.”

“This is so embarrassing,” Scott complains, but he does it, heaving himself up so their heads are parallel and wrapping his arms around her waist, approximating a hug as best he can while he’s lying on top of her. “Seriously, what even—”

“Shh. Just try it.” Tessa slings her arms around his neck and starts breathing the way she always does before a performance, deep and even. It’s not quite the same, obviously—they’re not normally naked when they do this, for one thing—but Scott finds himself breathing back anyway, closing his eyes and inhaling the warm scent of her hair. Their mental performance coach would be so proud.

“Should I tell you to leave it all on the ice, too?” he asks as his heart rate slows. Tessa laughs in his ear. Then she twines her legs around him, pressing her wet self against his thigh, and holy _fuck_. Scott nearly chokes.

“Still embarrassed?” Tessa asks quietly, rubbing against him. Scott pulls back to look at her, his forehead on hers, and for a second they just stare at each other while she moves. She’s blushing badly, from her cheeks to her ears, but her face is calm and still. Scott is so hard it hurts.

“Not embarrassed,” he confirms, reaching down to hitch her more firmly against his thigh. He can see the moment when she starts to lose her composure a little, her breathing speeding up as her hip rolls turn into something less performative. “Yeah?” he asks in wonder, touching her cheek.

“Oh,” Tessa says. She’s laughing at herself. “Yeah. Scott—yeah.”

“Okay.” Scott’s laughing too, a little shaky. Holy shit, he loves her so fucking much. “Good.” He lets her go for another long moment before working a hand down in between them, pushing two cautious fingers gently inside. Tessa moans—actually _moans_ , this low private sound he’s never heard out of her before in his entire life. Suddenly the only thing on earth Scott can think about is getting his face between her legs.

He kisses his way down her body, tasting salt and skin and the chemical tang of her lotion; when Tessa figures out where he’s headed, she kicks him gently in the back of his thigh. “You don’t have to,” she says, popping up on her elbows to peer at him. Her whole chest is flushed bright red.

“Are you kidding?” Scott grins against her hip bone. “We’re literally famous for this exact move.”

Tessa laughs, a full-throated giggle, her head dropping back so he can see the long pale line of her throat. “True,” she admits, “but that doesn’t mean—” She gestures vaguely.

Scott shrugs. “Did you think I never thought about it?” he asks bluntly. “Like. Doing it for real?”

Tessa stops laughing.

“Because I definitely did,” he continues, sliding off the narrow mattress to kneel beside the bed. Suddenly he wants to tell her every last thing, like how he’s known her smell for over five years now, which is longer than any of his girlfriends, or how once, early on, he got so hard during practice that he dropped her on purpose to cover. “I thought about it, like. A lot, Tessa.”

“Me too,” Tessa confesses quietly. She’s closed her legs but it only takes the slightest pressure for her to open them again and then Scott can see every inch of her, pink and wet and bare. When he pulls her legs over his shoulders in a rough approximation of their lift position they both shiver violently, like grabbing onto opposite ends of a live wire.

“Please,” Tessa whispers, and Scott’s gone.

He doesn’t even use that much finesse in the end, just burying his face against her and licking. She tastes new and familiar all at once, like deja vu, and Scott can’t get enough. She arches her back and hums quiet encouragement, her fingers clenching and relaxing in his hair for long, long moments until suddenly she gasps and shudders, sinking bonelessly back against the bed.

Scott keeps at it for another few seconds, glancing up at her once and then again. “Wait,” he says when he catches her gazing back at him; God, he knows her every way except this one. “Was that—“ He breaks off. “I mean, did you—?”

Tess huffs a breathless laugh. “I did,” she says, covering her eyes for a second, peeking at him through her fingers. “It was.”

Scott grins against the inside of her thigh. He’s not saying he feels prouder of himself now than he did this morning on the podium, but truthfully it’s a close fucking call. He doesn’t have a ton of time to preen, though, because here’s Tessa yanking at his shoulders and wrestling him onto his back on the mattress, slinging one elegant leg over his.

“I didn’t have sex for two years either,” she says, and oh, the _smile_ on her. “Just, like. For the record.”

“Noted,” Scott says stupidly, staring up at her. She’s straddling him like she’s never been shy a day in her life, flushed and sweaty and glorious. He runs a hand over the muscle definition in her thigh and prays he doesn’t come two seconds into this.

Tessa smirks at him. “Remember, be present, Scotty,” she says, reaching down and lining them up.

“Don’t you dare quote Marie-France to me right now,” Scott gasps, then loses it in a groan as she sinks onto him. “Oh my God, Tessa.”

“Uh-huh,” she says distractedly. After she bottoms out she sits all the way up on him for a second, rolling her shoulders back, and Scott can tell from her face that it feels way better than last time. “Oh Jesus,” she says quietly, clutching for his hands. Her thighs are shaking around his.

“Yeah,” he agrees, resisting the urge to buck up into her. “Tessa, you feel—”

“I know,” she says. Then she laces their fingers together and starts moving.

They find a rhythm together this time, slow and deep and steady; Scott reaches up to thumb at the pulse fluttering in her neck. It feels better for him now too, the pace and the hot clutch of her body, but it’s also just _fun_ to be doing this with her in a way he hadn’t really expected. Which is dumb, now that Scott thinks about it, because that’s been the miracle of Tess for as long as he can remember: that even when things were shitty between them, even when their routines weren’t working and they fundamentally didn’t like each other very much, he’s always had a way better time with her than anybody else in his life. It was never even a contest. It was never even close.

“Tell me this time, okay?” Scott asks breathlessly; she’s rocking with a little more purpose now, teeth sunk deep into her bottom lip. “I want to know when you’re getting—”

“Close,” Tess announces, eyes wide. “Oh my God, Scott, please don’t stop.”

“Not stopping,” he promises, even though he’s not actually moving very much anyway. “I swear to God, Tess, I’m never going to stop.” He muscles her down tight against him, wrapping both arms around her so they’re pressed chest to chest. Her eyes are so close all he can see is green.

“Now,” Tessa says suddenly, tapping at his shoulder like she’s trying to get his attention. Her face is alive with tension. “Scott, now, I’m—”  Scott stops breathing to watch her, and this time there’s no mistaking it: she freezes in place and _shakes_ , her mouth dropping open silently. As soon as it’s over she collapses back against him like the world’s most satisfied rag doll, exquisitely exhausted. It is, without question, the sexiest thing Scott has seen in his entire life.

“Holy fuck, T,” he says hoarsely. “Good?”

“Mm-hm.” She’s rubbing her face against his shoulder like a cat. “You’re going to make me pass out,” she tells him, which should probably be insulting but only makes Scott want to roll her over and fuck every last ounce of tension out of her body. “Okay—” She shoves herself back up on her elbows and peers down at him, breath fanning across his face. “Now you.”

Scott laughs, but it sounds strangled. “Not gonna take much,” he confesses.

“I know,” Tessa says matter-of-factly, and that’s almost it right there. Her hips start to roll again, a slow circle that’s probably specifically designed and patented to make men lose their minds, and Scott lets his head fall back helplessly. He feels her hand wrap around his thigh, encouraging him to move with her, and then they’re locked in a fast, dirty rhythm and Scott can only take about a minute of that before he comes, groaning loudly enough that he prays everyone’s still safely back at Canada House. It feels like she could wring him out and hang him over a chair.

“Fuck, Tessa,” he says when he gets his breath back.

Tess raises her eyebrows, wicked. “I mean, yes,” she teases, “technically that would be the name of the element,” and then both of them are cracking up like a couple of total idiots, like they used to back when they were middle schoolers in the back of his mom’s van. Scott can feel her laughter vibrating deep inside his chest.

“Is this going to be unbearably awkward now?” she asks him once they’ve finally calmed down a little, taking a deep breath and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

Scott shrugs into the pillows, reaching up to tuck a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “I mean, I for one am never going to be able to look you in the eye again,” he jokes, though it’s not like he isn’t worried about it. It’s basically the sum of every fear he’s ever had.

“Shut up,” Tess says, yawning hugely; the sight of her wet pink tongue sends a rush of blood to his dick that’s half-uncomfortable for how soon it is. “What time is it?” she asks.

Scott eases himself out from underneath her long enough to get rid of the condom and dig his phone out of his pocket; he’s got about ten thousand notifications, none of which he has any interest in at all. “Early enough,” he reports, sliding back into the tiny bed beside her. “Could get that nap in after all, if you want.”

Tessa smiles and holds out her hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow-up: [We can sort of harmonize together](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13975407). Tessa and Scott go home.


End file.
